


jus primae noctis

by jury



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fisting, Aphrodisiacs, Aroused Victim, Bathing/Washing, Begging, Cock Rings, Crying, Desperation, Dry Orgasm, Figging, Incest, Loyalty, M/M, Madness, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Torture, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Overstimulation, Prepared for Sex, Shaving, Sibling Incest, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21574222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jury/pseuds/jury
Summary: "My lord," the priest said. "Are you all right?""I — I'm fine," he said. Aleksander had asked this of him and he could not — he would not disappoint.His heart beat steadily, the ring on his finger hot from the water. It was Aleksander's ring, he remembered with a jolt. Had — where had he gotten it? Had Aleksander slid it onto Eika’s finger by his own hand, rough with sword callouses and warm with blood? He couldn't remember.Eika's beloved half-brother, Prince Aleksander, ascends to the throne, claiming all rights and responsibilities that come with it.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Prince/Half Brother designated for the Prince's sexual use
Comments: 24
Kudos: 616
Collections: Consent Issues Exchange 2019





	jus primae noctis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ciexmod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciexmod/gifts).



> El's beta help with this was tremendous! Thank you so much.

The sun was high and the crickets loud in the grass when Eika stripped off his shirt and leaned back against Aleksander's calf in the field behind the palace. They were far enough away that no one could spot them without approaching, but close enough that he could still hear the cries of the knights practicing in the training field, and the hammers of the men still working to construct everything for the ascension ceremony. But halfway down the hill was enough for Eika to put both those things out of his mind, and enjoy the way the sun warmed his skin, and the soft grass pressed up against his back. 

Aleksander was reading another of his huge tomes from the library again, some dust-clad book in High Aisa, which Eika could neither read nor understand — not that it really mattered. If he was honest, and he always was, it was much more fun being the half-brother than being the prince, with the duties and responsibilities that came along with it. Aleksander was always reading books, or learning something, or attending lectures. Being in the dark schoolrooms made Eika sneeze, especially on a warm summer's day like this. 

It had been a triumph of his to steal Aleksander away from lessons, especially so close to his ascension. He had been rewarded by the sly half-smile that Aleksander seemed to reserve for occasions when Eika was likely to get them both in trouble, but doubly rewarded by the fact that Aleksander had joined him on the hill. 

Eika was half asleep, eyes closed most of the way, his fingers moving only to plait the sweetgrass around them into a thick, heavy braid. The castle was falling silent for the lunch hour, but the crickets and cicadas took no such time, and their sound was still heavy on the wind. Aleksander turned a page, and Eika sighed at the sound of it. 

"Don't you read enough inside?" 

"No," Aleksander said. His attention was too focused on the book for Eika's liking, when he had taken the time to spirit Aleksander away. The purpose of the escape wasn't to do the same thing as they would inside. 

Brother Lewis made them read far too much in the schoolrooms for Eika's liking. He tolerated Eika more than most, possibly because he wanted to be the one to tame his spirit with good, old-fashioned education. He often assigned Eika twice or three times the reading he did Aleksander — but that was probably also because Aleksander would read it all anyway, without prompting. Brother Lewis was the picture of a scholar, with his kind eyes and close-trimmed mustache, but he had once won an archery competition amongst the palace staff, and was stronger than he looked. Eika had been worried about that strength, at the beginning, but Brother Lewis' disapproving look was more powerful than any strike.

Eika blinked his eyes open and returned to the braid of sweetgrass he was making, threading daisies and clover into the weave. "Do you think the people want a king who always reads and never has any fun?" he said. "They'll lean to each other out of their windows and say, 'King Aleksander hasn't thrown a ball or a party in ten years, but his recommended reading list' — "

"I think the people want a king who will be knowledgeable enough to govern them," Aleksander said, mildly enough that Eika knew not to press, but not so mildly that he didn't narrow his eyes and stick his tongue out in Aleksander's general direction. Or, rather, towards the book's cover, which was pressed with glyphs in the script he could not read, especially not upside down. 

"I wouldn't be a boring king," Eika said.

"I expect not," Aleksander said. "But I think the people prefer a boring king."

"Probably," Eika said, thinking of the line of mad kings that had come before — until their father, who was not a warmonger, who didn't sacrifice animals on the castle steps, or practice forbidden sorcery. And that was just the stories told by hearthlight. Some of the others had demanded the death of every firstborn son, and one had tried to marry every woman in the kingdom simultaneously. There were bawdier ones, Eika knew, but they seemed to be mostly forgotten or only sung of as risque songs in the lowtown taverns. The people did consider stability a relief. 

"But what songs will they sing about you, then? Without madness, they might not catch on."

Aleksander said nothing. Eika glanced up and saw, just for a moment, that his face was dark, brows drawn together and lips pressed thin. It passed, quickly; Aleksander could never stay angry at Eika for long, but it still plunged a sword of uncertainty into Eika's gut.

"Don't joke about that, Eika," Aleksander said, and there was cold steel in his voice rather than fondness at a bad joke. Eika bit his tongue.

"It might be less interesting, is all," he said, straining to bring back levity. 

Eika had never let on to Aleksander how scared of the madness he was. Sometimes he looked deep into his own eyes in the mirror, searching for a trace of its fire. But it was never there, and he told himself it never would be.

They never talked about the madness — they weren't supposed to. It wasn’t part of good courtly manners. Running up to it with a joke was the closest Eika ever came, and Aleksander never continued the conversation. It was a closed subject. 

Jokes got him in trouble more often than not. Only to Aleksander would he even joke about becoming king. Those words heard by the wrong ears would surely get him into trouble he truly didn't think he deserved; everyone knew he didn't want to be king at all, but only Aleksander appreciated his jokes about it. Likewise, Eika tried not to make light of madness, but it bubbled to the surface. Eika was surprised now, as always, that Aleksander didn't want to talk about it at all; he loved talking about history. And when they were children, they had searched out the stories in books, as all the noble children did. 

The last few links of the grass braid were crooked and uneven. Eika sighed, broke it off at the root and threaded the ends together, bending in half to reach up and place it crookedly on Aleksander's tawny curls; Aleksander adjusted it to be straight, but said nothing, turning another page in his book. He hadn't thought Aleksander was angry, not truly, but it was good to see he wasn't. 

Eika smiled and leaned back against Aleksander's calves again, which were warm and pleasantly firm with muscle from his days training among the knights. Aleksander should be paying _some_ form of attention to Eika, not his books. 

"What entertainment is there to be at the ascension feast?" he said. 

"Jugglers," Aleksander said, absently. "And music."

"That's what we always have," Eika said, gazing into the formless clouds. "Didn't you ask for something different?"

"Mm," Aleksander said, as if Eika had said nothing at all. 

Eika breathed deep and sighed again, turning his head so his breath gusted across Aleksander's thigh, which still provoked no reaction. He narrowed his eyes once more and opened his mouth, sinking his teeth into Aleksander's calf and squeezing. 

"Bastard!" Aleksander gasped, thumping him across the head with the book. Now, _that_ hurt. It was one of those books as heavy as a stone, and it made him see stars for a moment. Aleksander tossed the book into the grass, and the scuffle turned into a fine bit of wrestling that left the grass around them trampled and the air soft with the smell of disturbed earth and sweetmint. 

They were both breathing hard when they finished, Eika's sides sore both from laughter and Aleksander's pummeling. Sounds were echoing out from the castle again, combined with the bell for the end of the rest period. 

Eika could hear the knights returning to their training above them and, if he raised his head just a little, see Sir Baris, who was looking about, hawklike, as if he had heard their scuffling. Sir Baris had absolutely no patience for anything that Eika might get up to, and even less so when it involved Aleksander. His discipline came with a firm hand, though never a mocking word. He was a very tall man, built for war, and Eika knew if he spied either of them, it would be a clip on the ear and an hour of cleaning armour for him. 

"We should go back," Aleksander said, from somewhere up above Eika. Perhaps he was also thinking of Eika's ears remaining unclipped, and precious time not being stolen by chores.

"Not yet," Eika said, reaching out to snatch at Aleksander's ankle before he could get up. He rolled his eyes back in his head until he could just see Aleksander's face, the prominent blade of his nose offset by the charm of the rest of him, his green eyes dark in the summer honey of his skin. They didn't look much alike, Eika knew, truly putting the emphasis on the _half_ of half-brothers. Where Eika's freckles were multitudes, running across his entire body, Aleksander just had a light dusting across his nose. Eika's eyes were dark, his long brown lashes a sweep across his face that made him look mischievous at the best of times and lazy the rest. Aleksander took too much pride in his duty to ever be lazy, or slouch, or snatch an apple from the kitchen when no one was looking. 

Now, in the summer field, Eika could look at him all he liked, but when Aleksander had come of age and been wreathed in all his princely ornaments, he had been so difficult to look at, the shine of royalty and divinity blinding. Eika would never look like that, even if those same ornaments somehow came to grace him; he'd more likely start juggling them in time with the entertainment. He laughed at the image, and Aleksander reached down to tug at Eika's tousled curls.

"Fool," he said, too affectionately for it to sting. "You'll get a cuff over the ear from Brother Lewis for this."

"It will have been well worth it," Eika said, "to have seen you out in the sun for once. I fair forgot what you look like, except in the darkness of the room, hunched over a book no one else can read."

"There are windows in the library," Aleksander said, mildly. 

"I know," Eika replied. "I spend every lesson staring out of them." 

Aleksander tugged at his hair again, and this time it was just a shade shy of painful, making Eika wriggle in the grass. Then he was released, Aleksander reaching for his book again. 

"Did Hiram speak to you?" he asked.

Eika frowned. Their father's advisor had never liked him, and did not allow him any leeway under any situation. It was very apparent that Hiram thought Eika's sole wish in the world was to somehow steal the crown off Aleksander's head, and drive the nation into the darkest age it had ever seen. Eika had never known where the man got such an idea, but it didn't seem possible to dispel it. 

"About what," he said, closing his eyes as if it would make the topic dissipate on the wind.

"I don't know," Aleksander's voice continued. "Something about the ceremony."

"He probably thinks I'm going to snatch the crown out of the bishop's hands and try and put it on," Eika said. It was a joke that hooked into him as soon as he said it, like a fishing line cast wrong. His tone was light, but the words speared into him with an uncomfortable ring of truth. He opened one eye and squinted out into the sun, raking his teeth over his bottom lip.

"Probably," Aleksander said.

"We both know your head's too big for it to fit me, though," Eika said, trying to force a laugh that came out as more of a cough. The last thing that he wanted was Aleksander to think he had any kind of challenge on his mind. Why would he want that kind of responsibility? Not only that, but he was sure Aleksander would be a great king. His secret wish was that he might do anything to help that, anything at all. Hiram didn't understand that; he wasn't sure if Aleksander did.

Aleksander kicked him in the side. "No wonder he's worried about you," Aleksander said. "You act as if you haven't come of age at all." 

"I don't want to be king," Eika said, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look at Aleksander properly. "You know that, don't you?"

"Of course," Aleksander said. 

"But Hiram doesn't," Eika said. "No matter what I say to him."

"Don't worry about him," Aleksander said, reaching out to ruffle at Eika's curls, gently pulling until the sensation made Eika shiver from his shoulders down. "I'm completely sure you won't do anything at the ceremony." 

Eika smiled, his face growing warm as it always did when Aleksander fixed his full attention on him. It didn't matter what Hiram or any of the other advisors thought about him, as long as he had Aleksander's full trust. But it was one thing to think that and another thing to _feel_ it; it felt just like lying in the sun until it was almost too much, the edge of heat behind the warmth something to be savoured, but not lingered in. He didn't ever want to get used to the way it felt.

Aleksander pulled his hand away and returned it to his book. That was to be expected, Eika thought, rolling over to rest his head on Aleksander's foot again, his eyes half-closing. He was glad to have coaxed Aleksander's head from his book even for a few moments.

A shout interrupted his sunbathing. Aleksander moved, first lazily and then quickly, a muttered _shit_ rousing Eika into sitting as well. He stood, gathering his book with a backwards, apologetic look towards Eika. 

Sir Baris had discovered them, and the ground between them was quickly eaten up by his stride.

"First afternoon bell," he said. "I think you know where you're meant to be, my prince." 

"Yes," Aleksander said, tucking the book behind his back and moving, just a little, as if to block Eika with his body. "My apologies, Sir Baris. I'll be at the training yard right away."

"It's my fault," Eika said, leaning out around Aleksander to meet Sir Baris' flinty eyes for just a moment.

"I fair know that," Sir Baris said. Eika raised his eyebrows, not bothering to wait for the title he knew wouldn't come. He felt Aleksander's disposition change, grow cold, but Eika stood and nudged him in the side with a sharp elbow.

"Go on, then," Eika said, knowing well there would be no invitation to join. "I'll follow soon." 

Aleksander trotted after Sir Baris, with an apologetic glance back. Eika shrugged, and then crouched down in the broken grass, reaching out to hook the forgotten grass crown towards him. He had nothing to do for the afternoon — might as well sleep in the grass until Aleksander was done.

*

The morning of the ascension ceremony was cool for summer, with a low-lying mist that the sun would burn through once it arose. Eika woke early, for once, unable to stop his whole body wiggling in excitement. He had waited so long for the ceremony — for Aleksander to take his oath and become the Crown Prince, which would afford him all the rights and privileges of his station — no more lessons, no more _lectures_. If Aleksander wanted to go riding at midnight, the stable boys would saddle horses for them and they would go out under the stars. 

_Aleksander_ was probably looking forward to taking his role by their father's side, having an influence on the court and acting as part of the quorum — just thinking about that made Eika want to jump back into bed.

But the day was too beautiful and the ceremony was too important. He had promised himself he wouldn't do anything to disappoint Aleksander during the ascension — nothing to prove Hiram right. Every day, and especially as it grew closer to Aleksander's ceremony, he had turned and found the man staring at him during dinner, or lurking around. There was keeping an eye on him, and then there was whatever Hiram was doing, which was not subtle. But Eika was, occasionally, capable of being good. Mostly when it was Aleksander's reputation that would be impugned.

He threw off his sleeping shirt and washed himself. There was already a flurry of activity in the courtyard below his window, servants running back and forth to make sure everything was just so. If he leaned dangerously out across the sill, he could see the dais where Aleksander would kneel to take his oath, the niche at the side where Eika would stand to hold his sword and spear. Eika's heart thumped hard in his chest. He couldn't wait to be there, even if the weight of Aleksander's weapons was twice his own, and his arms still ached from practice. He dressed quickly and bent to the mirror to fix his hair, his soft curls springing across his forehead until he could pin them back with water and a prayer. 

A knock at the door — Aleksander was there, mouth pinched tight and eyes narrowed.

"Eika," he said, entering Eika's room and bending to the mirror exactly as Eika had. "Help me fix my hair." 

Eika laughed, which earned him a glare, and combed it back from Aleksander's face with damp fingers. "There's nothing wrong with it," he said. "You just have to be nice. Don't _yank_ at your hair and expect it to lie flat." 

Aleksander's skin was warm and he smelled like cedar; Eika's hands lingered for a moment. The corners of his lips were pinched with worry, and Eika had a strange impulse to smooth it away, despite knowing he could not. He dropped his hands down by his sides. 

"Right," Aleksander said. A breeze was coming in through the window and cooling Eika's overheated cheeks. 

"Cheer up," he said. "Haven't you been waiting for this day?"

"I have," Aleksander said, and ducked his head. Most of the time Eika could tell what he was thinking — they were practically twins, after all — but now he wasn't sure. It was unlike Aleksander to be nervous, especially over matters of state. Aleksander inhaled and smiled, but Eika knew well enough that it wasn't his _real_ smile; it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hiram wants to speak with you before the ceremony."

Eika groaned. "Again? Haven't you soothed his mind yet?"

"Seemingly not," Aleksander said, checking his hair in the mirror once more. "Keeping him happy keeps Father happy, you know."

"I know," Eika said. "But that doesn't mean I enjoy it." Aleksander shrugged, and Eika bit his tongue, knowing better than to burden him on such a momentous day. "Hey — maybe we can go riding after the ceremony — or tonight."

"Perhaps," Aleksander said, reaching out as if to tousle Eika's curls once more, but remembering halfway that he shouldn't, his hand dropping back to his thigh. For a moment, Eika felt bereft, being denied the familiar, teasing weight of Aleksander's hand. An old, growing fear reignited. Was the ascension ceremony to be the end of Aleksander treating him like a brother? "I have to go."

"I'll see you there," Eika said, to Aleksander's retreating back. His heart swelled to think the next time he would see Aleksander was the moment before they stepped out onto the dais, when the ceremony bell started ringing to signal that the ascension had begun. There was no point thinking of old fears now.

The door closed behind Aleksander, and Eika sighed, his attention turning to his meeting with Hiram. He finished getting himself ready first, strapping his ceremonial sword to his belt and making sure his epaulettes were correctly aligned. The last thing he wanted to do was give Hiram a reason to quibble with his appearance. 

Outside his room was the same hubbub of activity as the courtyard, with servants and nobles moving through the corridor alike. It took Eika longer than usual to reach Hiram's chambers, moving against the tide of people, especially considering the volley of comments and catcalls that he attracted. 

This was nothing new. Half of them were because of his reputation as a trickster, and those he raised a hand or made a mocking bow to, but the other half were the usual mocking words about his parentage, and he had long since tried to project an air of good humour about those. And further still, there were calls of good luck and best wishes for the ceremony, which brought a smile to his face — until he stepped into Hiram's antechamber, where it turned into a frown. 

"He's not here," Hiram's apprentice said, without looking up from her scrolls. "He said if anyone, which I suppose means _you_ , shows up looking for him, to send them to the north tower."

"The north tower?" Eika said, aghast. "Doesn't he know I have places to be?" 

"That's not his concern," the apprentice said, finally looking up to glare at him. "Nor mine — " a deliberate pause — "my lord."

So that was Hiram's game. Eika rolled his eyes and turned on his heel, walking as swiftly as he could through the castle. He'd expected Hiram to be more subtle and less childish, but he did have to admire that Hiram had thought to get Aleksander to tell him of the meeting. If Aleksander had asked it of Eika, he had to complete the task. Otherwise, he'd be halfway to the ceremony dais by now. 

He huffed in a breath and blew it out his nose, as he finally rounded the corner to the north tower stairs. Hiram was there, not within the tower, but outside the door to the stairs. Eika narrowed his eyes.

"Hiram," he called out, his voice bouncing off the stone. It was empty here; even the sounds of the ceremony preparation didn’t reach this far. He couldn’t guess what business Hiram had for him here. "Enough of this. What is it you want?"

Hiram turned. He looked as he always did. He was tall with salt and pepper hair, and he seemed to be always glaring down his nose at Eika, who knew he was much too brash, loud and royal for Hiram's liking — always leading Aleksander into what Hiram called 'trouble', and Eika thought of as 'fun'. It was the air of royalty that annoyed Hiram most, he had come to realise. If he had just been a brute or an idiot, Hiram would have ignored him, but it was how Eika could be when he set his mind to it that irritated Hiram — like how he had learned his sacred lines for the ceremony in one night, and turned up the next morning to a Hiram that had expected to get to give him extra, humiliating lessons. 

"Calm yourself, my lord," Hiram said. "Neither of us would do anything to jeopardise this ceremony, I'm told."

Eika narrowed his eyes. Hiram met his gaze, and they stood there for a moment before Hiram shifted, opening his hands towards Eika. "I have only a special task for you, to ensure the ceremony goes well for Prince Aleksander." 

"Aleksander would have said if he had something more for me to do," Eika said.

" _Prince_ Aleksander does not know every part of the ceremony like I do," Hiram said. "But he asked for this, and he gave me his ring to give to you as proof of that." 

In his palm was Aleksander's ring, with his crest and sigils on the band. Eika reached out and took it, sliding it onto his thumb. Hiram watched the motion and frowned. The ring was blood-warm from Hiram's palm, but for a moment Eika was able to imagine the warmth was retained from Aleksander's hand, waiting in the metal for him. 

"Is it a ritual?" Eika said. Since he had Aleksander's ring, he would go along with Hiram for now. It must be important, for Aleksander to entrust his ring to Hiram — and how well Aleksander knew Eika, to anticipate that he would need some proof. It wasn't an admonishment, but something of security. It was like having Aleksander's warm, calloused hand in his, leading him onwards. 

"It is a ritual," Hiram said, "but it is of Aleksander's patron, so it might be unfamiliar."

Eika, who had always been too flighty to choose a patron, shrugged. "If it is of Aleksander's will, then I'm sure it will be no hardship."

"So be it," Hiram said, and gestured to the door of the north tower. When Eika touched the metal of the door, it felt warm, although it quickly faded like a dream. He couldn't help cutting his eyes back at Hiram, whose expression was carefully blank. 

Eika twisted the door open and stepped inside, finding the room hot and almost too dim to see, like squinting through smoke and haze. There was a peculiar smell in the air, something floral that choked his breaths.

"My lord." 

Eika twisted at the waist. There stood a priest of the blind god of knowledge-seekers, Aleksander's patron. He was veiled so heavily that Eika could only determine who he was by his voice, the charms and tokens woven into his veil clinking gently against each other. He struck a match and dipped it into a brazier that did not flare with light, but gently glowed, the light not strong enough to reach the corners of the room. 

There was a depression filled with water in the stone — Eika didn't remember seeing anything like that in the room before, though it had been a very long time since he had been inside it. 

"If you could disrobe."

"I washed last night," Eika said, foolishly. He was beginning to feel a little odd, but the cause of it he could not say. There were petals floating on the water, which looked milky and slightly strange.

"There are sacred oils for anointment," the priest said. His voice sounded a little familiar, enough that Eika struggled to figure out if he had heard it before or not; he didn't know any priests. "They provide cleansing in a way ordinary soap cannot."

Eika frowned, but he couldn't figure out a reason to resist — he didn't know why he was trying to wiggle out of something that Aleksander had asked of him. That didn't seem like Eika at all. 

It was a struggle to get out of his formal clothes. He didn't remember them having so many buttons and straps, the epaulettes half-choking him. The priest made no move to help him, but Eika folded the clothes and put them carefully into the basket by the bath, propping his ceremonial sword on the edge. He was naked, but the light was dim and the priest was blind — or so he thought; he'd never studied much scripture — and he was usually confident in his skin anyway. 

The bath was steaming when he crouched to put a hand in the water. It was hot, just on the edge of too hot, and the top was so heaped with petals that he could barely see the water underneath. He'd never had a bath so adorned, but he'd never had a sacred bath before, either. He felt awkward crouching on the edge of it; he slid into it one leg at a time, hissing as the hot water enveloped him. 

The water felt a little strange, he thought — a little _soft_ , but he couldn't discern why. It was probably the sacred oils the priest had mentioned. The fragrance curled up into his nose and made him wheeze for a moment, like all of spring had opened up into his face. The scent caught in his throat and made him cough. 

His head spun, just enough to make him blink as he laid his neck in the niche at the edge of the bath and stared up into the darkness of the ceiling. Wasn't it — hadn't it been morning? He thought he could see stars in the night above him, like needle marks in black cloth. He blinked; his eyelids felt heavy, his body thrumming with something he could not name. 

The heat of the bath had equalised with his skin, and he felt like he was suspended, anchored to nothing and apt to fall out into the sky. He reached out, wildly splashing, and gripped at the stone edges of the bath, which cut into his palms.

"My lord," the priest said. "Are you all right?"

"I — I'm fine," he said. Aleksander had asked this of him and he could not — he _would_ not disappoint. He swallowed down his spit and fear and tried to relax, breathing deep to steady his nerves. 

Slowly, the panic receded, as the darkness around him became not a vast abyss but a soft blanket, curling around him. His heart beat steadily, the ring on his finger hot from the water. It was Aleksander's ring, he remembered with a jolt. Had — where had he gotten it? Had Aleksander slid it onto Eika’s finger by his own hand, rough with sword callouses and warm with blood? He couldn't remember. 

Another breath brought the scents of flowers deeper into his lungs. Was that what he would smell like when he was out on the ceremony dais? Would Aleksander linger a little closer to him — or would he crinkle his nose and turn away, saying Eika smelled like a garden? Eika shivered against the hot water.

He unwrapped his fingers from the side of the bath and tried to wash himself. His vision doubled, then tripled until he was in a vast oasis of water, flowers spreading off in every direction, limitless. Had it flooded the whole castle? Everything was silent and still, but when he moved it rippled and he could not see its end. 

His blood was beating hot in his veins. When he blinked it made stars burst behind his eyes that remained when he opened them, showering lights across the room. 

"I think that's enough, my lord," the priest said, stretching out dark hands that reached and reached until they gripped Eika's shoulders, hauling him up into the air. It was cold enough to sting, steam rising from his skin. The basket of his clothes was gone — or it was somewhere he could not see, no matter how many times he turned his head. "We must go into the next room." 

Eika knew that voice, but he could not place it. It wasn't a voice he heard every day, but something close enough to it. It could be anyone he saw. It could be the baker's boy, the knights’ trainer, Brother Lewis — or no one he knew at all. He reached for the priest's veil, but somehow his hand never connected. 

Where were they? Each time the priest's charms rattled together, he heard the sound echo out a thousand times, until the whole room was a chime of noise. 

"The light in the next room might be too bright," the priest said. "Would you like me to blindfold you?"

"What?" Eika said. He turned around once more and the priest was still there, solid in the pulsing darkness. His hair was wet, and fat droplets rolled down the dip of his back and across his ribs, down his ass and legs, dripping onto the floor. "You want to what?"

"Do you want me to blindfold you, my lord," the priest said, in a voice of infinite patience. "I'm sure Prince Aleksander would want you to be comfortable."

"If — if Aleksander said to, then yes," Eika said. He had somewhere to be, didn't he? Somewhere important. "You're his priest, aren't you?"

"Yes, my lord." 

Eika bent his head and let the priest tie the soft blindfold over his eyes. It didn't matter much, because it was darkness on darkness, the fabric feeling like how the night in the room felt. He was — he was missing something. "My clothes — "

"Any clothes you need are in the next room, my lord," the priest said, and took him by the arm, his grip squeezing into Eika's flesh a little too hard. 

Eika stumbled. The floor was warm — or his feet were warm? Or both were warm? He couldn't tell. He balked for a moment, unsure if the priest was leading him out into the corridor where he had come from. Was that Hiram's plan, to humiliate him in front of the whole castle? 

But they passed through not a door but a soft curtain that led into another room; he could tell because there was a window faintly open, somewhere, and he could hear birds and feel the soft breeze. It was a little too elaborate to be a prank, he thought, and even that thought was hard to hold in his head.

"Lie down," the priest said, his hard grip guiding Eika down onto — something. It wasn't a bed, or a lounge, but something else. Something made of a hard wood that pressed up against his skin, that made him shift. It was unforgiving. "Raise your hands." 

He raised his hands, although he could not stymie the confusion. Was this part of the ritual? They had cleansed him, but what for? He rubbed at the hot metal of the ring. It felt like it was on the verge of burning him, squeezing at his finger. Why had Aleksander put it on that finger, he wondered. Wasn't that —

He gasped as something cold cinched around his wrists, then his ankles. 

"What is this?" he said, wiggling against the grip. "What are you doing?"

"You have to be prepared," the priest's voice said, and it was very close to his ear, and somewhat clearer than before, as if he had taken off his veil. 

Eika breathed in, hard, and found that choking sweetness filling his lungs again, emanating from his body. It made his mind slide again, until he could not think through the barrier of it. 

Something cold touched his chest and made him gasp, a salve spread over his skin. The same hand repeated the motion on his armpits, his stomach, and then lower, spreading that same, cold sensation across his pubic hair and balls. Only then did he realise he should react, a muffled cry pushing past his lips.

"Stop this," he said, his voice thin. "Hiram! Stop this!" 

But no answer came. His voice rattled uselessly off stone; the room was silent. 

"Aleksander!" he cried, but still, no answer came. Of course it didn't — Aleksander was somewhere else. Somewhere important. 

"Hold still," the priest said. "I don't want to cut you. Or, rather, I don't want to be the idiot that does." Something was missing from his voice. Not deference, but _respect_ , which Eika generally thought he had earned by not being a madman like the rest of his line, even if he was a —

Cold, sharp metal touched Eika’s chest and he went still, expecting to feel the piercing pain of a dagger sliding into his flesh. Not Hiram — an assassin. He held his breath. He was a terrible knight, really; his instincts were at war instantly, one telling him to _thrash_ , to break free at any cost, even with a knife in his side. The other, cooler side — it sounded a little like Aleksander — was telling him to lie still, and perhaps escape with his life.

But no pain came, just a gentle scrape that swept across his chest. The blade vanished, came back warm and slid across his skin again, smoothly enough that he knew it was very sharp. But it wasn't pointed; it was straight. He bit into his lip, trying to keep still, until he tasted blood under his tongue. 

The blade circled his nipples and made him hiss, with a faint splash of water every time it vanished. Then it moved to his armpits, his stomach, his pubic hair, all being carefully shorn. Eika had to hold his breath when the stranger took hold of his balls, but the grip was exceedingly gentle, as was the touch of the knife.

"I'm surprised you're so still," the priest said. "We had bets on if you'd scream and thrash and make me geld you. That's why we had to draw straws." 

Then he was done, releasing Eika's balls again. They felt wrong where they rested against his skin, smooth and oddly hot, throbbing. Eika tried to release his breath but it came out _wrong_ , with a soft, breathy noise he hadn't intended. The priest chuckled, low enough that Eika wasn't sure if he'd heard it at all. "I suppose they had the wrong idea about you, bastard prince," he said. 

Eika bristled. "'M not — "

"Not a bastard?" the priest said. Eika heard the rattle as he dropped the razor somewhere, then further noises of what sounded like tools. He tried to hold himself still, but his muscles wouldn't obey his commands. His thighs felt hot and heavy, his hips stiff, and one in his chest kept jumping, his biceps trembling with strain. "Or not a prince?"

"Aleksander," Eika said — slurred — "My father — "

"This might hurt," the priest said, pinching at Eika's earlobe with cool, calloused hands. "Be a good prince and don't yell." 

He was too _close_ — Eika wanted to twist out of his grip, but his neck felt heavy, his head an aching stone. "It'll hurt more if you move, too," the priest said, and something tiny and thin slipped into Eika’s earlobe, a pinching, sudden pain. He exhaled with it, the heat of it travelling down his neck and into his gut, pooling there. Something followed into his ear, leaving it hot and heavy even when the priest pulled back.

"What are you doing," Eika said. "Why are you doing this?"

"Don't question _me_ ," the priest said. "I'm just doing what I'm told." He repeated what he had done on the other side, leaving cold metal resting against Eika's neck, the throb in his earlobe repeating. 

Then his cold hands reached Eika's nipples, pinching one with a detached boredom. 

"No," Eika said. "What — " 

He twisted up and away from the priest's hands. The priest slapped him, hard, on the chest, hard enough that the sound echoed against the stone.

"Shit," the priest said. "Is that going to — don't tell h — anyone I did that." 

"You're mad," Eika said, and his mind was rolling again, unable to push words past his lips. _When I get out of here I'll tell everyone,_ he thought. 

The priest pinched his nipple again, and the heat of it made Eika restless, his breath coming hard and fast. 

Something cold and hard slid into his nipple, pressing hard at the resistance on the other side. It hurt, yes, but the pressure made him gasp, squirming from the piercing feeling. The needle went through, finally — he felt the slide lose its resistance, as the needle emerged on the other side. The priest repeated it with the other side, adding something that made his nipples feel hot and heavy, cold metal resting on his skin. The throbs twinned the ones in his ears, and the hot surface of the slap still reverberating through his body. 

He realised with a start that he was half-hard from it, the blood beating in his body now pooling in his cock. 

"Don't — " the priest said, and Eika heard him rummaging again, the sound of metal on metal. "Do you know how much trouble I'd get into if you — did that?" he said, and then something cold and hard was sliding over Eika's cock and around his balls, something _tight_ that made him gasp. 

The priest's hands were only on him for a moment or two, but it was enough to make him buck his hips up, the tip of his cock sliding against the priest’s wrist. It made Eika sob, especially when the priest snatched his hand back and swore. 

"You're not meant to get hard from _that_ ," he said. "Can't you think about not getting me in trouble?"

"I don't know what you want," Eika said, and his voice was cracked with misery and arousal. What was happening — he didn't know what was happening. He was dizzy with it. Was this some terrible dream he would awaken from to Aleksander knocking on the door, saying he was late for — something? Eika’s thumb brushed Aleksander’s ring. Aleksander had given him this ring, but not by his own hand. Why wasn't Aleksander here? They were meant to always be together. He always wanted Aleksander. But — like this? Naked and exposed, his chest smooth from hair and his cock half-hard — no, hard and straining against his belly. He swallowed, and it felt like swallowing fire to think of Aleksander standing and looking down at him — 

"Bullshit," the priest spat. Eika thought he would slap him again, and he couldn't help moaning, the sound sliding out from between his lips despite his attempt to clamp them shut. This couldn't be real, couldn't be happening. It had to be a dream. "Maybe he was right about you." 

Whatever was around his cock didn't stop him getting hard - and neither did his will, because no matter how he tried to quell it, his cock was pressing against his stomach now. He wanted to hide it, jerking down against the restraints on his hands. The anonymous hands running over his body made his mind turn to wild possibilities. He didn't want to, but the thoughts rose in his mind. Could Brother Lewis have been hiding these feelings under his kind smile? Had he always wanted to bend Eika over one of the desks? Or Sir Baris — a slap on the ass from one of his hands would probably mean Eika couldn't sit for days. He moaned, brokenly, shifting his hips against the table. Where would the next slap land?

The priest was looking for something again — Eika didn't know what else there could _be_ , if this was a plot to humiliate him. But the priest found what he was looking for — some sort of chain that attached to the rings in his nipples, making Eika sob as he gave it a hard tug. 

"I thought you'd be begging for it by now," the priest said. He reached down and touched the tip of Eika's cock, gently rolling down the foreskin and rubbing his thumb where Eika was most sensitive. It was too much. He thrashed against his bonds, the chain on his chest shivering with the movement, his eyes wet behind the blindfold. 

The priest's grip turned just shy of painful, and then he released it, dabbing a wet salve that smelled of rich herbs onto Eika's nipples and ears. The pain faded, but that awful, hot throb remained. He was going mad; he was certain of it. 

A hot tear trickled down into the shell of his ear. Was this what it felt like? It felt almost good, the way that his mind was drifting away from him, free of thought, of consequence. So this was why all of his ancestors had capitulated to the madness. 

No — _no_. His mind snapped back and he fought against it, gritting his teeth. If the madness truly did live inside him, he had to be stronger than it. But it was no use. He was caught in the crux between pleasure and pain, his mind drifting and then returning to sensation over and over again. 

"You'll have to forgive me for this next part, little bastard," the priest said. "It wasn't my idea — I would have just fucked you by now."

 _Would you_? was on the tip of Eika's tongue. He felt hot and empty inside, his body yearning to be touched. Why had he been brought here, if not to be humiliated like that? If the priest wasn't even going to fuck him — what did he want? Fear blossomed in his chest and marched down into the rest of his body, but it just made his cock harder, wetness leaking out of it onto his stomach into a pool he could _feel_. He shivered. 

The priest unsheathed a knife — Eika knew that sound without having to look. He went as still as he could manage, his hips still twisting, cock twitching at nothing at all. 

"Relax," the priest said, which didn't make Eika relax at all. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already." That did make a certain amount of sense, though it wasn't reassuring. 

The man's hand closed around Eika's cock again, thumb concentrating on the tip. It was _too much_ , and Eika realised he was on the edge of coming, every muscle in his body straining for it, his balls heavy and drawn up tight. He hadn't even noticed ascending towards the precipice; when he was alone it often took a long time to come, until he was able to align his thoughts and body just right. It had never been like _this_ — the man had touched him twice, and he was about to spend across his own belly — but he didn't. The pleasure washed over him as though he had, but he didn't come; no relief came and his cock was still hard. 

"What?" he croaked.

"I don't want him to _kill_ me," the priest said. "But I doubt he'd mind if I just help him out a bit."

"Who?" Eika gasped, but the priest was silent, then, apart from a strange noise that Eika couldn't identify — it sounded like slicing into a fruit. 

His mind would race, and then go still, thoughts coming so slowly he wasn't sure if he was having them at all. Colours began to pulse inside his blindfold. He couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed.

"Come back, bastard prince," the priest said. His hand was working in between Eika's legs — he realised with a start that the priest's thumb was halfway into his hole, his hand hot and wet with something, tugging at the rim. Eika hadn't felt any of it but he was feeling it now, the stretch painful and hot, almost burning. 

The priest withdrew his thumb and slipped in something else instead, something hard and cool, carved so Eika's hole closed around it and held it there. The priest sighed. "You might be a bastard, but you've got a lovely cock," he said, his hand closing around it once more.

"No," Eika said, but it sounded false, drawn out into a moan as the priest began to tug at his cock once more, rolling his thumb over the head. This time it was twinned with the growing warm sensation of whatever was in his ass, making Eika push up into the man's hand and then back against the table — and then he realised he could hear something from the half-open window. It was a noise that was important, he knew. Something about it — something about the chime of bells was important.

"Shit," the priest said, releasing Eika's cock and making him moan and push up, pressing the head into the priest's wrist. The priest jerked back from him, swearing again, and quickly released Eika from his bonds, slinging Eika’s arm over his shoulder. His sore nipple pressed into the fabric of the man’s robes, which made Eika sob into his ear. 

It gained him no relief as the priest took a stumbling step forward, dragging Eika's insensate legs along with him. "You're a heavy bastard," he gasped, and then they were going through a door, which Eika knew was wrong, somehow. 

"Help me," the priest said, over Eika's drooping head, and someone roughly seized at Eika’s other arm, until he was supported between them, his feet trailing on the floor. He could hear distant voices, along with the relentless chime of bells, coordinating with the heavy thump of his heart. 

He realised with a jolt that they were in the palace proper and that he was still naked, and it made his cock throb even as he gasped, fighting to try and cover himself. All he could see was darkness and swirling colours.

"Stop that," the priest said, and cuffed him on the back of his head. Eika gasped again, his cock dripping down its length, his head beginning to spin once more. They were hurrying now; he was being half-carried, his feet skimming over the stone floor. 

The thing in his ass was beginning to go beyond warmth. It hurt when he clenched around it, although it was smooth, and it was getting hot. The pain was sharp-edged and growing, and he could feel it heating his blood from his ass, down through his legs and up again before it reached his cock. He doubled over from that strange sensation again, coming without coming, his feet tottering on the ground.

"Did he just come?" an unfamiliar, breathless voice said from Eika's left.

"Just hurry up," the priest said. "We'll all be bored of seeing it in a year." 

Eika heard a door open, and they divested themselves of him, the priest pausing for a moment before pushing him in with a firm hand at the small of his back. He stumbled forward, raising his hands to feel his way — which tugged at the chain on his nipples, pulling them hard enough to make him cry out. The rings on his fingers were looped onto it somehow, and he could only reach forward about half the normal distance. 

He was sweating from the heat in his ass; it felt so hot and sensitive that every step he took into the new room was its own type of torture.

The room felt familiar — _smelled_ familiar, somehow, no matter how faint it was over the perfumed scent of his skin. Was it his chambers? No, it didn't feel right. He turned this way and that, trying to look down or up through his blindfold — but it was tight, and he could not reach high enough to move it without tugging so hard on his nipples that it made stars spark behind his eyes and his cock throb.

The burning in his ass had grown impossible to ignore. He twisted this way and that, unable to move his hands even far enough to reach his back. His nipples were sore and very painful, the salve the priest had used beginning to wear off. 

At least he was alone, he thought, turning around once more. Although — was he? He was too _noisy_. That was what Aleksander always said, when they were trying to hunt in the forest with bow and arrow. Why was he thinking of that now? 

He tried to hold his breath, turning his head to listen. He could hear the distant sound of the outdoors, leaves brushing against the window. Beyond that, he could feel the wind, and below that, if he really forced himself to concentrate — breathing.

Eika turned towards the sound and took a step, an unsteady moan issuing from his mouth. He had never been hard for so long before, never been on the _edge_ for so long before. It felt like every movement he took might make him come, and like nothing ever would. 

A few more steps, and he could really hear the soft sound of breathing if he turned his ears towards it — his ears that were dragged down by metal, blood-warm against his skin. 

He took his final, shuffling step and collided with a warm body. Eika knew that smell, that feel, that _heartbeat_ like it was his own; he couldn't help shuddering against him.

"Aleksander," he said, his tongue twisting around the words. All strength went out of his body, and Aleksander had to grip at his arms to keep Eika on his feet. "They did — someone — they put something _in me_ — "

Aleksander turned him and folded him over until Eika was resting on Aleksander's desk — he didn't need his sight to know this room, not now he had identified where he was. 

"Let me look," Aleksander said, and his voice was steady, steady as the hands that skimmed over Eika's shoulders and briefly closed over his hips. The hard, glossy wood of the table was cold against his nipples and he moaned, unable to stop rolling his hips against it. Aleksander would help. Aleksander would fix — 

"Can you believe they wanted to gag you?" Aleksander said, his fingers parting Eika's cheeks gently. "Ah — it's so red, Eika. You should see it."

"What?" Eika croaked. 

Aleksander's fingers hooked around the thing in his ass and began to pull it out, provoking a stifled sob from his lips, his eyes wet against the blindfold. It was over, it was finally over — 

Aleksander was pushing it back in. Eika's hips hitched, his cock pressing against the ridge of the desk, trapped between his stomach and the wood. 

"Does it hurt?"

"N-no," Eika said, his voice rising as Aleksander twisted the thing inside him and then finally pulled it free. Hot aftershocks shuddered through his body; Aleksander's hands were still drawing his cheeks apart, leaving his hole exposed. 

"They've gone mad," Eika said. "They've — ah!" 

Something wide and blunt was pressing into him, slicked and relentless in its push. His hole was hot and tight around it, the stretch unbearable. He scrabbled at the table, his hands caught underneath his body. 

It wasn't until Aleksander's hips met with Eika's ass that he realised it was Aleksander's _cock_ , big enough to make him gasp for air and sob, his breath unsteady. It felt like scratching an itch, the sensation soothing the burn inside his hole, the emptiness. He clenched around the intrusion and Aleksander sighed, his breath warm on the back of Eika's neck. 

Aleksander pushed the blindfold up and off Eika's eyes, leaving him blinking in the sudden, hazy daylight. He turned his head; he could just see Aleksander from the corner of his eye, although it hurt to look at him, radiant in the sun. 

The sight of him — he was fully clothed, his hands gripping hard on Eika's hips, but his eyes were half-lidded and dark and his mouth was slack with pleasure. There was something else in his eyes — a deep flame, like swamp witchlights, that burnt at the very back of them. The flame that Eika had once looked for in the mirror.

No — impossible. If it were to happen to either of them, it should be him. _He_ was the weak-minded layabout, not Aleksander. Aleksander was to be king, not him. He should be the mad brother, to be locked away and never spoken of again. 

Aleksander was smiling at him now, fond, despite the growing fire at the back of his eyes.

" _You're_ mad," Eika choked out, his mouth wet with spit.

"Yes," Aleksander said, with unsettling sanity. "I know." 

He pulled back and thrust into Eika, a shallow, unsatisfying thing that did nothing more than push him a few centimetres up the desk, the chain dragging on his sore nipples, his breath coming in a soft wheeze. 

"When — how long?"

"Always, I think," Aleksander said, smoothing away the hair from the back of Eika's neck so he could put his tongue there instead, nosing up to run it, hot and wet, along the delicate shell of Eika's ear. It made Eika shiver and his cock kick, the tip wetter than ever. He canted his hips down, still trying to hide how hard he was, how wet. "But only when it comes to you."

"I — I thought — " He couldn't _think_. "I thought the madness was gone."

"Perhaps it just skipped a generation," Aleksander said, and his voice was too calm, too steady. It frayed Eika's nerves. "Don't tell me you don't feel it as well. Our blood is too close for that."

"I _don't_ ," Eika said. 

Aleksander bit him, gently, on the curve of his ear, his tongue sliding on the metal of the earring where it was pinned into Eika's ear, making him jump. 

"I don't believe you," Aleksander said. "You're always — this is as much your fault as it is mine." He slid his hands under Eika's body and pinched his nipples, making him sob, wet, against the surface of the table. Aleksander’s hands lingered, pinching and pulling at abused flesh until Eika's nipples felt huge and stretched, and even the simple brush of Aleksander's callouses made him whimper and twist away. "You're always finding excuses to take your shirt off — to go swimming naked, to wrestle — "

"It's _summer_ ," Eika said, and it sounded false, a desperate note cracking through the syllables. 

Aleksander began to move again, very slowly, in a rock against Eika that hitched his hips up against Eika’s ass, slow and relentless. He was deliberately avoiding his prostate — Eika was beginning to feel the warm, comforting curl of madness through his body. It was his mind drifting away from his body again, the sensations still travelling up to him, each of them slow and intense, reverberating in his mind. He would go mad from pleasure, broken by it faster than pain, especially at Aleksander's hand. 

"Why else would you bed that chambermaid, if not to make me jealous?" Aleksander said, pairing each thrust with a squeeze of Eika's nipples, until Eika could feel the throb of his cock matching it, his whole body caught in a web of pain and pleasure that had no escape.

"That wasn't to — how do you know about that?"

"I'd believe it had nothing to do with me," Aleksander said, his lips brushing at the curve of Eika's ear, "if you hadn't done it in my bed." 

Eika gasped. The door had been _locked_ , he'd checked and triple checked. There was no way, _no way_ anyone had seen him. 

"How was it? Tell me," Aleksander said, and he wrapped his hand in the chain that linked Eika's nipples, pulling it tight. "Tell me how it was." It wasn't a request. 

"It — " Aleksander thrust into him again, and Eika groaned, his voice hoarse and low. "I tried to, but I c-couldn't do it. I couldn't — "

"You couldn't get hard," Aleksander said, and Eika nodded, opening up the curve of his neck for the maddening brush of Aleksander's lips. "Why not?"

"I don't know," Eika said. It seemed like a distant memory now. He felt like he'd been hard forever. He felt like he would be hard forever. "I hid it. I made her come." 

"Were you good at it?" Aleksander said. "Did she shake and cry like you are now?" 

Eika shook his head, the humiliation perversely making his cock swell, pressing hard against the blood-warm metal keeping it contained. 

"I smelled you in my bed that night," Aleksander said, like it was a normal, natural thing to say. "I thought perhaps you'd been there for me. I thought you'd touched yourself there. Maybe your cock, maybe your ass, pressing fingers into it and thinking of me."

" _No_ ," Eika wailed, Aleksander's cock nudging at his prostate and making him moan, his voice loud enough to carry out into the corridor, out the window. Why wasn't anyone _helping_ him? 

"What about the stablehand?" Aleksander said. 

Eika's whole body ached with the need to come, but Aleksander was relentless. He hadn't even touched Eika's cock yet. Maybe he never would. 

"How do you _know_ about that?" 

"How do I know?" Aleksander reached out and grabbed the back of Eika's hair, lifting his head so they were eye to eye, so he could smell the scent of Aleksander's skin and see the blades of his teeth, the wet flick of his tongue. "Because I _know everything you do_." 

It wasn't true. Couldn't be true. Aleksander hardly ever looked up from his books. 

"You're the only thing I care about. The only thing I turn my full attention to." Eika's head ached. "You've always wanted it. You've always _had_ it, Eika. I don't care about anything but you."

He pushed Eika's head down again and set a punishing pace, his hips slamming into Eika's ass. He could feel — hear — the sound of Aleksander's balls hitting against him, and it set him into a kind of dreamy rhythm. He was shifting back against the thrusts before he realised what he was doing, seeking anything that might finally make him come. 

"Tell me about it," Aleksander said, his fingers grabbing at Eika's hips again. "Was it better than the chambermaid?" 

Eika didn't know how Aleksander was managing to think, let alone speak. His thighs were tight and he couldn't help clenching down on Aleksander's cock. It was thicker, bigger than any he'd felt, and it was too much and perfect at the same time. 

He was coming without coming, again, shuddering through it with only Aleksander's grip to keep him steady. He couldn't stop making noises, moans and sobs that did nothing to make Aleksander slow down or stop. 

"I can't _believe_ they wanted to gag you," Aleksander said, and it was the same fond tone that he used when Eika had pulled off something particularly stupid and daring. Exactly the same. 

"Let me come," Eika said, and he couldn't believe he was begging for it. But maybe it would end, then. Maybe he could _think_. 

"No," Aleksander said, and his hand reached under Eika's body to touch his cock. Just that simple touch was too much. The graze of his fingers over the head made Eika yell and thrash, banging his head against the table. Gods, if Aleksander took off the ring he might come just from that. He might never stop coming. "I asked you to tell me the story."

"A- _ah_ ," Eika said, as Aleksander stilled his hips and began to tease at Eika’s cock instead, rolling down the foreskin, tracing his fingers over the head and the vein on the underside, reaching down to feel the smoothness of his balls and squeezing them so gently it almost didn't feel like a threat. "I was stabling my horse and it was late." 

He couldn't find the next words, his cheeks burning with heat. Aleksander stopped touching him, and Eika sighed. There was the sound of a cork pulling free of a bottle, and then drinking — Aleksander pushed his fingers into Eika's mouth. They were coated in something bitter and herbal, rubbing against Eika's tongue until all he could taste was skin again.

"For vitality," Aleksander said, gently pulling his fingers free. "Keep going."

"He asked me if I wanted to pass the time," Eika said. "I hadn't ever, with a man."

"All you had to do was ask," Aleksander said, licking at the back of his neck, tasting the sweat there. "At least now your body does the asking for you."

"He sucked my cock," Eika said, his words sounding foreign, not his own. Aleksander had stilled, as if he was truly just listening, and his cock wasn't up to its hilt in Eika's ass. It was too much, just waiting, and he couldn't help wriggling back against it, making Aleksander's breath catch. "I couldn't come. I don't — I couldn't. So he fucked me."

"Did he have a big cock?" Aleksander murmured, brushing Eika's curls away from his eyes. "Did he make you come?"

"He fucked me for a long time," Eika said, dreamy. "It felt good."

"As good as this?" Aleksander said, reaching under to touch Eika's cock once more, his fingers tapping at the metal band at the base. For a moment, Eika thought he would remove the band, but no such relief was offered. 

"Eika," Aleksander said. "Was it as good as this? Were you this hard?"

Aleksander would know if he lied. 

"No," he said, and Aleksander laughed, enough that Eika could feel it from where his chest was pressed against Eika's back, vibrating through their bodies. 

"I still couldn't come," Eika said. "He was — I think he was getting frustrated. Until I — " 

He stopped, the words choking off in his throat. Why couldn't he remember? There was something that he had thought of, but it was elusive. A dark memory, shrouded from him. 

"What did he do?" Aleksander said. "Did he touch you? Fuck you harder?"

"No," Eika said. Panic washed through his whole body. He felt sick and hot and desperately aroused all at the same time. The memory was growing clearer, even though he closed his eyes hard against it, until stars burst behind his closed lids. "I thought of — " his voice sounded surprised, sounded not his own, sounded _wrecked_ — "I thought of you." 

Aleksander let out a wounded breath, and then he was coming, to both of their surprise, his hips hitching up against Eika and pressing deep inside, his come hot and wet inside Eika — marking him as nothing, as a whore, as someone who lay down for his brother and _liked_ it, wanted it. 

He closed his eyes. Aleksander was pulling out of him, carefully, and picking him up, pulling him across to the bed. 

Eika hadn't known what he was going to say until he said it, but it had been true. How had he forgotten? Forgotten that when he was at his limit he would think of Aleksander's arms, his thighs, the way that he looked at Eika, sly, when they were meant to be studying? It was like once he had come, he forgot. 

Now he was remembering the unsatisfying slide of the stablehand's cock inside him, the musty scent of the stables, his own hand working underneath him. _Aleksander_ , he had been thinking, remembering his scent, the hard feel of his muscles when they wrestled. 

His legs didn't work, but Aleksander let him lie face up on the bed, looming over him, one knee pressing between Eika's legs. He could look down at his own body now, and see his red, sore nipples, standing up from his chest, and below that his cock, equally red and sore, the tip purple, and his stomach so wet with his own precome that it looked like he had been coming the whole time. Worse than that, he felt empty again, a crawling feeling that was inescapable. He didn't want to be reminded of the stablehand's cock, he wanted to be _filled_. 

He'd never seen that stablehand again, he realised. Nor the chambermaid. But the thoughts didn't linger, couldn't catch onto his mind.

"Aleksander," he choked. Aleksander hummed and gently brushed his hair back from his forehead, and then kissed him, his mouth hot and demanding, his tongue pressing deep into Eika's mouth until he was choking on it. 

That wasn't enough. It wasn't enough. He moaned and opened his mouth wider, until Aleksander was gripping at Eika's neck and pushing him down into the mattress, his vision spinning. Aleksander’s clothes were rough against Eika's skin and he couldn't stand the feeling of them, the harsh scratch of the fabric unbearable. 

Aleksander pushed two fingers back into Eika's wet hole and he moaned, rolling his hips down for more. Aleksander added a third, but it wasn't enough. It was possible nothing would ever be enough again, even when Aleksander spread his fingers apart, thrusting at a relentless pace, right against Eika's prostate. It was too much, especially when he knew he could not come; it was building him into that same peak again, with no relief. 

"Let me come," he moaned. "Aleksander, please." 

"No," Aleksander said, and Eika felt him slide his fourth finger into his hole. It was too much, too wide without truly filling him. 

Aleksander retreated down the bed, pushing Eika's legs up and exposing his hole, ignoring his attempts to close his legs and hide. Eika could see the way that Aleksander was looking at him as he slid his fingers in and out, as he teased at Eika's sore rim, the wetness of his come easing the stretch as he worked his fingers back and forth, spreading them out until Eika began to cry, fat tears slipping down his cheeks. "You've been teasing me all this time, and now I have you. You will take what you are given." 

He narrowed his fingers and slipped his thumb into Eika's hole as well, pushing into him with one long, slow motion. Deliberately slow, slow enough that all Eika could do was lie there and take it, feeling the burn as Aleksander pushed in past his knuckles, until the widest part of his hand had entered Eika’s hole. 

He would be so stretched. He would never be the same again, wide open from his brother's hand. He struggled to clench shut, but it just sent a spike of pleasure through his body that he had never felt before, deep enough that he swore he was coming, his cock uselessly leaking against his stomach. 

"What does it feel like?" Aleksander said. Eika's hole was fluttering around his wrist. "I can see you trying to close." 

"Big," Eika choked out, and that was enough for Aleksander to close his hand into a fist, a blunt battering fist that relentlessly stimulated Eika's prostate, that was so huge that Eika knew it would ruin him, to have to go back to being empty after feeling like this. He would always want this — had always wanted it. "Take it out, Aleksander, please."

"No," Aleksander said, gently pushing his fist in and pulling it back, Eika's passage wet with Aleksander's come. His cock was constantly leaking now, Aleksander's fist pushing come out of it without the release of coming, like it was a useless thing. Aleksander reached forward with his other hand and ran two fingers through the pool, his tongue flicking out and tasting them. 

Eika yelped and closed his eyes, breaking out in a sweat over his whole body. It was too much. He was on the verge of fainting. He would, if he looked down and saw his brother between his legs, the heat of his gaze on Eika's stretched, fucked-out hole. This was what it was like to receive Aleksander's full attention. 

"There's a law," Aleksander said, absently, turning his fist this way and that inside Eika. Eika could barely focus on his words; _this_ was what Aleksander wanted to talk about? "It took me years of research to find it. At first it was just a footnote of a mad king's decree, but I found it. I found it, Eika."

"What?" Eika said, the word hushed and falling from his lips. Gods, it was like constantly coming, when Aleksander pushed his fist back and forth. It must be in halfway to his elbow by now, and all Eika could do was lie there and take it, a vessel for pleasure. 

"On the crown prince's ascendance," Aleksander said, the words sounding familiar and well-versed in his mouth, "he may take a brother to satisfy his needs, and prevent the gaining of heirs."

" _What_?" Eika said, straining to prop himself up on his elbows. It hurt, straining muscles in his chest and arms, but he had to do it. He had to see Aleksander's eyes. 

"You're mine," Aleksander said, and Eika could see that witchlight-fire in his eyes again, the one that burnt away sanity and reason. "I've made the decree. You'll serve me now."

"No," Eika said. "You can't — I'm a prince." 

"It's not like anyone else would want you now," Aleksander said. "Look at yourself." 

Eika did, tears rolling down the sides of his face. His hands were still bound, and it hurt to hold himself upright even this much, dragging on his abused nipples. But he somehow craved that pain, tugging on the chain more and more until he couldn't think. He didn't want to think. 

"I should have had them pierce your cock," Aleksander said. "No — I want to do it myself."

"No," Eika said. Aleksander pulled his hand free, slowly — agonisingly slowly, the bulk of his fist slipping out and in again, so many times that Eika lost count, drifting in and out of a grey haze where he could only feel. "You can't."

"You're mine," Aleksander said. "I can do whatever I please."

"I'm a prince," Eika said. "I'm the bastard prince."

"Who called you that?" Aleksander said, his voice suddenly hard-edged. "Who said that?"

"I don't know," Eika said. "Everyone." 

He opened his eyes. Aleksander was taking off his clothes, the finery of the ascended prince dropping away until it was just Aleksander standing there, naked, the planes of his muscle and his hard, thick cock making Eika's mouth wet until he choked on his own spit, his tongue too heavy to move. 

_Fuck me_ , he thought, but said nothing. 

It couldn't be true. No law would be so outlandish. 

But he knew that was a lie. They had spent hours looking up ancient, mad laws in the library, laughing about the dog that was appointed financial minister, Eika biting his wrist until he cried, to stifle his laughter. Was that when Aleksander had found the law? Had he been thinking about it this whole time?

"No one will call you that again," Aleksander said, covering Eika's body with his own. "You're _mine_." 

Eika could do nothing but nod. Aleksander was pushing his cock into Eika's hole again, and there was no resistance, just a soft soreness. Would it even touch the walls? Eika groaned and tried to clench down, tried to squeeze, but it was no use. 

Aleksander was undoing the metal from his cock and balls, throwing it aside, stroking at the abused flesh. "You can come whenever you like," Aleksander murmured into the side of his neck. "Wherever — no one but me will touch you again." 

Wherever? What did that mean? But he was too distracted by the way Aleksander's cock was pushing into him, the skin soft against his inner walls. 

Aleksander was aiming for his prostate now, a glide against it that made Eika gasp for breath that felt too thin — like Aleksander was taking all the air from between their mouths. He smoothed his hands through Eika's hair and met his eyes, kissing him gently on the corner of his mouth. 

"When I'm king, I'll take you on the throne. You can ride me when I'm in the quorum. I'll make you a special saddle carved with a cock so you'll never be empty when we travel."

"No," Eika moaned, and came, squeezing down on Aleksander's cock, the barest brush of Aleksander's stomach against him setting him off. It was endless, come pouring out of him, shooting high enough between their bodies to grace Eika's neck, hot and wet and never ending, pulse after pulse until he was drifting in that grey haze once more. "I don't want that."

"You will," Aleksander said. "You do." He licked at the come on Eika's neck until it was gone, still rocking back and forth inside Eika's sore hole. "You'll never wear clothes again, Eika. Do you understand? If I'm to govern the people, I need you. I need you to contain the madness. Will you help me?"

" _No_ ," Eika said. Aleksander licked at his tears, pressed kisses against his cheekbones.

"Thank you," Aleksander said, breathing the words into his skin. "Thank you, Eika." 

Eika's mind was blank, the grey veil settling over his eyes until all he could do was feel that sore slide of Aleksander's cock back and forth, the way Aleksander was absently playing with his nipples. His hole was wet — had Aleksander come again? 

His cock was still hard, and he was still grinding into Eika, relentlessly. "You can sleep," Aleksander said, wrapping the chain around his hand. "I'll be here when you wake up."


End file.
